A Pain in my Stomach

I have a pain in my stomach. A physical pain, a physical expression of my longing. My longing to be longed for, to be needed. To be pulled close in time of pain, in time of need, in time of uncertainty. I need to be wanted, I need to be necessary. Of few things I am sure, and this is one. I am also sure of pain, of loss, of pure joy and its fleeting shadow, its very short discovery and enjoyment. I am very sure of the pain of life, the joy of life, the joyful pain of life.

I am very sure that she is working towards who she needs to be. I hope she is looking at the moon tonight. I hope one day, she will look at the moon with me, quietly, passionately. I hope one day she looks at me like I long to be looking at her. I have faith that life will unfold in a satisfactory manner, and that it will involve her and I. Of her identity, I am not sure. This uncertainty pains me, but patience learned from life allows me to painfully await her arrival, in all its agonizing slowness. Lava erupts, flows to the sea, and turns once again into rock. The elements are in a fragile balance, and so shall I remain in balance, awaiting the eruption and the flow. I know this is my lot, and so shall I accept it, even though the waiting is painful.

The midnight moon shines upon the desert with a surprisingly bright, ambient, soft, peaceful light, reminding us all that life continues as it has, and it shall indefinentely.